


Adventures In Writing

by PinkRangerV



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Camp Nanowrimo, Gen, Relatively random, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1401772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkRangerV/pseuds/PinkRangerV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Witness me write based on random prompts and other inspiration! Will there be plot? Will any of it make sense? Find out in today's chapter of ADVENTURES IN WRITING!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my bipolar, I'm not even going to attempt writing anything not totally random for a while. (Seriously, how does it take _two months_ to get in to see a psychiatrist?) So, for Camp NaNo, I'm just going to go off the rails. I'll post a chapter a day (or, today, a prologue and a chapter), and tell me what you like\don't like, and I'll work it in. Enjoy!

Maybe it started in fire and blood.

 

Maybe there was drama and passion--maybe sworn enemies became lovers. Maybe later, when the passion cooled, they became less and more all at once.

 

Maybe that’s how they knew each other.

 

***

 

Maybe it was water and moonlight.

 

Maybe it was mystery and magic that drew them together. Maybe the fighting was less important than the emotions; maybe they felt a deep, true connection that wove them together long after the initial crisis was over.

 

Maybe that’s how they knew each other.

 

***

 

Maybe it was romance that drew them together.

 

Maybe they met at a speed-dating event. Maybe they met online. Maybe someone set them up, a matchmaking relative or friend. Maybe they went on a date or two and as life unfolded they cooled\grew into what they were now.

 

Maybe that’s how they knew each other.

 

***

 

The end result was the same. Sara and Guy Daniels knew each other.

 

They weren’t biologically siblings. They weren’t lovers. They existed in a state of friendship that seemed weird and bizarre to everyone around them. They really didn’t care about everyone around them. They were polite, of course, and kind, and caring, but at the end of the day they only gave a flying rat’s ass about each other.

 

Then one day a big, friendly-looking dog covered in blood walked up to their front porch, sat, and dropped a severed hand politely for Sara to play fetch with.

  
Sara raised an eyebrow, then petted the dog carefully to avoid getting blood on her. “Good boy.”


	2. The Starting Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot begins! A brother and sister find a ghost...and a mysterious explosion!

Guy walked in filthy and carrying a gun, then stared at Sara’s neatly laid-out kitchen. The severed hand was on a counter, with hundreds of dried herbs set neatly down in a pattern Guy recognized as ‘complex spell\potion--do not disturb’.

 

He wasn’t very good at magic. Sue him.

 

“You finally snap and go supervillain on me?” Guy snarked, going to put his gun away.

 

“Hmm? The hand? The dog brought it. Can you give him a bath, please?” Sara said absently.

 

Guy shook his head. Not ‘call the police’ or ‘try to save evidence’. “We could leave this to the cops, you know.”

 

Sara blinked and looked around at her work. “...I guess. Did you want to?”

 

Guy snickered and headed out to wash the dog.

 

The dog was, as it turned out, entirely happy to get a bath, and Guy played with him until they were both soaked. The dog, once dry, went contentedly inside, while Guy turned to the deer he’d killed. Sara wouldn’t have time to butcher it, so he went for the butchering tools instead.

 

The mystical sword he’d left in the toolshed hissed at him. Guy ignored it. It was, quite frankly, a pissy little bitch, and Guy wanted to deal with it about as much as he wanted to deal with a handful of hot coals.

 

_I heard that._

 

Guy rolled his eyes and chopped into the deer corpse.

 

***

 

The dead man stood in Sara’s kitchen.

 

Sara leaned back against the counter. One of these days she was going to do this while she was lying down...well, no, she wouldn’t, she preferred being on two feet to deal with mysticism, but it was a tempting thought, to rest while she worked magic. Standing up, she always felt ridiculously lightheaded.

 

But she wasn’t going to give up her power advantage for the world.

 

 _That’s...mine._ The dead man said, staring at his hand.

 

“A dog brought it to me.” Sara gestured low, at her knee. “Brown and white. Really friendly. You know him?”

 

The dead man nodded, then looked at Sara again, curiously. _Who are you?_

 

Sara ran through the several possibilities and discarded most of them. “A witch. I need to know what happened to you. Is there a killer in the woods?”

 

That was the only reason she cared, really. Sara and Guy lived in the forests of Oregon, and while they’d carved out a little garden and home for themselves, they didn’t try to tame the woods itself. If there was a killer lurking, it was hours away from a proper city--and, more importantly, a threat to Sara’s home.

 

Sara did not approve of that.

 

The dead man considered. _I...don’t think so. Not exactly._ He drew himself up, and Sara caught gibberish that was his name. She’d shielded, just a little, and it had scrambled his name, but when she shook her head the man said it again. _John O’Conner, Homeland Security._

 

Sara’s facial expression said worlds. She refrained from saying anything else. “Okay. Where were you when you died?”

 

 _I was tracking a terrorist. My height, white, brown hair and eyes. A joker. He thinks he’s hilarious_. O’Conner rolled his eyes. _I don’t know what his real name is, but I think he’s affiliated with a Mexican drug cartel._

“...A _white terrorist_ affiliated with…” Sara stopped herself, barely, by reminding herself that, for all she knew, that was what actually happened. Truth, fiction, stranger than...not that she’d ever heard of the typical white terrorist being anything but a white supremacist, but it wasn’t her field. She could suspend disbelief until she had more facts. “Okay. And where was this?”

 

 _You a LEO? You’d be good at it._ O’Conner joked with a smile. He must have made the ladies swoon in life, Sara thought wryly. That humor and smile, with a hint of sweetness running through his clear protective streak… _We were going out on the trail over by your house, actually. My truck’s probably still at the trailhead if he hasn’t ditched it yet. I was trying to get intel on him, but…_ O’Conner gestured, and Sara noticed that his spirit carried the impression of a bullet in the chest.

 

Sara glanced outside and resisted the urge to sigh. There was, in fact, a trail near her house. It was probably one of the worst-advertised in the state, because it was meant for experienced hikers, and for some reason was advertised on a _tourism_ site. She’d lost track of the times she’d rescued hikers who’d made it to her house, or Guy had gone to pick up the ones who couldn’t make it that far. (She’d also lost track of the number of letters she’d sent about that, but no one seemed to care.) “Right. I’ll see what I can do.”

 

O’Conner nodded.

 

There was an awkward pause.

 

“You can hang around if you want, but it’ll be pretty boring.” Sara warned.

 

O’Conner continued awkwardly being silent.

 

Sara sighed and murmured the words to release her circle. Drinking alcohol after working magic was never a good idea on an empty stomach, but damnit, she wanted a beer.

 

***

 

Guy came out of the bathroom and tripped spectacularly over a large pile of very happy dog. The dog barked cheerfully at the realization that his mouth was next to Guy’s ear, licked said ear, then continued to bark.

 

Guy made a few mental comments directed at the universe in general, then got up and went to the kitchen.

 

Sara was dozing, head in arms on the kitchen table, and someone who was only half there was wandering around examining the house. _John O’Conner, Homeland Security._ The man introduced himself, before catching sight of his dog. _Fluffy!_

 

The dog woofed eagerly, bounding up to his master’s ghost and snuggling quite happily alongside him.

 

“... _Fluffy_.” Guy repeated.

 

O’Conner shrugged.

 

The dog, apparently named Fluffy, barked.

 

Sara muttered something. Guy translated it to mean ‘I need beer’, which was followed by a translation of ‘something’s happened on the trail’. Guy sighed. “Damnit, I just got home…”

 

“Gimme a minute.” Sara wearily volunteered. She pushed herself upright and headed for the coffeemaker. “Damn idiots…”

 

“What’ve we got?” Guy asked, heading for the fridge.

 

“O’Conner says he was chasing a terrorist. Who works with Mexican drug cartels.” Sara made a gesture akin to ‘who the fuck cares’ expressed in body language. “Terrorist shoots O’Conner. Fluffy wants to play fetch. Here we are.”

 

 _Do you need to burn my corpse to make me go away?_ O’Conner asked curiously. Fluffy started jumping up to try and steal bits of meat from Guy’s hand, grabbing a chunk and wolfing it happily down.

 

“We’ll let Fluffy eat it.” Sara grumbled, getting out a water bottle.

 

“Tetchy.” Guy noted.

 

Sara’s hands moved in a few violent, blunt gestures. Guy snorted.

 

They donned their packs and weapons and headed out.

 

***

 

_I don't understand. I was here._

 

Fluffy, as if hearing O'Conner, barked and charged over to a spot, digging frantically. Sara sighed and started signing to Guy, who nodded and turned to watch the perimeter.

 

_Sorry?_

"It's not _you_ that's the problem." Sara explained. "There's no killer. _You_ are over _there_."

 

Fluffy conveniently dug up a hand. It flopped disgustingly against the damp Oregon earth, clearly just beyond rigor mortis.

 

Flies were hovering over it. O'Conner shuddered.

 

Sara flipped out the shovelhead and jammed her hiking staff into it. It wasn't exactly designed for tough dirt, but this was, presumably, pre-dug.It caved easily, even with the badly-attached shovelhead digging it up.

 

There was a faint sound much like a firework.

 

Sara and Guy both looked up, then at each other.

 

 _Was that a firework?_ O'Conner blithely asked.

 

Sara kicked off the shovelhead. Guy didn't seem to respond, unless the slight sound of him pushing the safety off counted. The two waited, watching the forest, for a long minute, and then Sara turned back to the corpse, looking through the pockets.

 

Digging a six-foot hole was out of the question. Sara and Guy hadn't bothered loading their packs with supplies like they normally would to find a lost hiker; they'd just loaded up on wood, paper, and a container that got splashed liberally over the fuel and body and smelled like gasoline. Sara lit the match herself.

 

O'Conner watched his body burn. It was...strange. But he didn't vanish. There was no light at the end of the tunnel.

 

Just...these people. And a bit of hope, maybe.

 

 _The USB has my files._ O'Conner said. _You could start there._

 

"Let's keep him." Guy said with a hint of a grin.

 

Sara snorted.

 

"Oh, come on, he doesn't even mention that we should go to the cops, let alone his people. I like him." Guy was definitely grinning now.

 

 _I'm under the impression it would be a waste of my time._ O'Conner said dryly.

 

"Yeah, basically." Sara examined the USB drive. "Give us something to do while we pack, I guess."

 

Guy raised an eyebrow.

 

"Really? _Really_?" Compared to Sara's normal emotional range, the outburst was nearly an explosion of anger. "What else could that have been? It wasn't a firework. We'd have seen something--"

 

"Not through the trees." Guy reminded Sara quietly. "It's okay. It's not--"

 

Sara huffed and stormed off.

 

Guy sighed and started following, Fluffy obediently on his heels.

 

O'Conner hesitated, then went after them.

  
It wasn't like he had anything else to do.


End file.
